48th Street

I miss our house in Tifton. I don't know if Justin "gets" this, but I miss it. It was familiar. It was our first house together. So many memories were made at this house - some were happy and some were very sad.

This was our dining room. The curtains and those wooden curtain holders were at the house when we bought it in 2003. I never really liked them, but I never did replace them. I left them when we moved. I had plans to replace them, but never got the chance. I also wanted to replace that chandeliere. It wasn't terribly ugly, but I thought something else would look better.

I loved the high ceilings. This house wasn't particularly large, but the high ceilings in the living room, foyer, and dining room made those rooms seem much larger than they actually were. We put those ugly black covers on the sofa and love seat to protect the furniture from the dogs. I never knew I would miss that. The house wasn't decorated particularly well, but I had lots of plans. We had just finished installing the bamboo floors when Justin went to Atlanta, so we never had time to enjoy all that hard work. I hope the new owner appreciates those floors. I hate knowing that some stranger is enjoying my pretty house, my pretty paint on the walls, my pretty rooms.

To say I'm bitter is an understatement. I think I'm close to accepting moving to Atlanta. What choice do I have. I've become numb to the drive up each week. I think I could move forward if I actually lived in Atlanta and could make that house my own. There is only so much you can do on the weekends. It's hard hearing about things that happen at that house, memories other people are making there, envying them for being there when I can't, doing things I can't.